Horns Up!
by ElatedEccentric
Summary: Marching band isn't for sissies. Ask Sora; he's been doing it for two years. With the arrival of the flamboyant new band director Xemnas, Sora and his friends just know that this season is going to be very interesting, if not traumatic. Soriku, Akuroku


**_Disclaimer:_** _Don't own, don't own, don't own. Only thing I own is the plot, and everything else associated with that. I do not, however, own the characters (who come from both Disney movies and the Final Fantasy and Kingdom Hearts series). If I did… well. The movies and video games would have beautiful naked gods everywhere._

_**Horns Up!**_

_**Chapter One: Early Morning**_

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEE--!

I reach out from under the covers and slam my fist down on the snooze button. My alarm clock dies instantly, and blessed silence fills the early morning air. Up in the top bunk, I hear Roxas sigh happily; he hates our alarm clock just as much as I do.

It's six in the morning. The responsible part of my brain nags at me to get up, it's the first day of band camp for this year and Roxas and I are supposed to be at the football field at school by seven-thirty. But the lazy, sleepy half of my brain, the part that's strongest in the mornings, yawns and points out that the school is only ten minutes away, five if Roxas and I run really fast. That's all the encouragement I need; it's too early in the morning, and my bed's much too comfortable to get out of, anyway.

Roxas, whose brain is all lazy, is already snoring above me. After spending sixteen years of listening to it, his snores have, strangely, become like some sort of obnoxious lullaby for me. The snores and the warm comforter and my soft pillows are dragging me back to the land of sleep. I yawn, and snuggle my face into my pillow.

_Clomp, clomp, clomp._

Shit.

Cloud's coming up the stairs. His work boots are heavy as they land on the stairs, the wood groaning loudly under his weight. I'm surprised they haven't given out yet, after all these years. Hell, I'm surprised anything in this house is still standing. This place should have been condemned years ago. It almost was, until Mom and Grandpa Merlin chained themselves to the porch and refused to leave until the bulldozers got off our property. Only reason we even managed to keep this place was because they sold the old van, some old jewelry that had belonged to great-great-great Grandma Louise, and all the money that was in me and Roxas's college trust fund. All the money that came from this went to the senator, who declared that our house was a historic relic of our _fair city_ and could therefore not be destroyed.

So now, not only is my family stuck with this dilapidated building for the rest of forever, but Roxas and I have no way of paying for college, thereby eliminating almost every chance we have of even getting into college. Unless, of course, we get lucky and score some scholarships, but with the grades we're making that's very unlikely. Roxas and I aren't exactly studious, if you get my drift.

_Clomp clomp clomp. _Cloud's left the stairs, and is coming down the hall. I shouldn't be surprised really. Ever since mom died, he's been trying to fill her place--that includes nagging us to get up in the mornings. I groan and pull the covers over my head, even though it's totally useless. Roxas snores away above me, completely oblivious to what's about to happen.

As is Cloud's style, he kicks our bedroom door open without preamble. The door crashes loudly against the wall, and I just know it left another hole in the wall. Roxas shrieks and falls out of the top bunk, landing on the floor with a nasty crack. I peek out from under the covers. He sits up and rubs his forehead, glaring furiously at Cloud, who raises his eyebrows right back. I suppress a shiver; they look so much alike, it's scary. Most of our family members are blonde and blue-eyed. I am one of the two exceptions; my hair is very much brown, but just as spiky as the rest of the men's in my family.

"What are you guys still doing in bed?" Cloud asks, drumming his fingers against the doorframe.

"Um, sleeping, actually," Roxas replies sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "You know--it's that thing that normal people do when they're trying to gather strength for the day ahead. Actually, you might want to try it sometime. It might make you less of a sadistic bastard."

I frown. Roxas probably doesn't realize it, but that might be a good idea for Cloud; our big brother has some nasty looking bags under his eyes, and his spikes aren't as spiky as they have been in the past. Pretty droopy, actually. He's been coming home pretty late, too, and getting up way too early in the morning. This worries me. Cloud works with Hollow Bastion's undercover criminal investigation unit, as well as their undercover narcotics unit. Dangerous work, and he's always on the edge because of it.

I feel guilty. It's pretty bratty of us, huddling under the covers like this when Cloud goes to bed late and wakes up early so he can go to work and help put food on the table. I push the covers off my body and sit up, saying, "Lay off of Cloud, Roxas. He's right, we need to get up."

Roxas glares and snarls at me to go that hot, scary place underground, then pulls the comforter off _my _bed and wraps himself in it, obviously prepared to go back to sleep.

Cloud's not having it though. He yanks the comforter off Roxas, sending him sprawling to the ground. Roxas growls and spits like an angry cat. They start arguing, Cloud saying that Roxas needs to grow up already and start taking some responsibility, Roxas snapping back that Cloud's not their parent and he needs to mind his own damn business and leave us alone, we're not babies. I roll my eyes and stand up, walk past them and go to the bathroom down the hall. I close the bathroom door, but I can still hear them yelling at each other.

I check my reflection in the mirror, frown when I see how pale I've gotten. Two years ago, I used to be really tan, a nice, healthy golden color. I was always goofing off outside then. Of course, two years ago we lived on Destiny Islands, with beach-front property, Cloud had a steady job as a delivery boy, and mom was alive and only showing littlest signs of being sick.

I wash my face and brush my teeth, determined to be in a good mood on the first day of band camp. We have a new band director this year, since Mr. Sebastian decided that he'd have more fun directing the orchestra and chorus classes than directing the marching band. A lot of the other band students I've talked to are nervous about this, as am I. We fear change.

The bathroom door suddenly bangs open, and I jump about a foot in the air with a startled shriek. The intruder is Grandpa Merlin, wearing his blue terry cloth bathrobe and his bunny slippers. He's waving a sparkly wand over his head and shouting something in Spanish.

"Grandpa!" I say, exasperated. "I thought we talked about this. Didn't we agree that you would knock before you came into the bathroom?"

Grandpa doesn't seem to hear me. He says something else in Spanish and gestures angrily. I sigh loudly, frustrated. Grandpa Merlin's old, like dating-back-to-the-age-of-the-dinosaurs old, and he lost his senses when Roxas and I were about five. He's not even Spanish, but it's about the only language he speaks in. Even though he's frustrating, he's still pretty cool; he used to be a great magician, and I can remember when he seemed to magically pull coins out of my nose when I was little, and let me keep them afterwards. He tried to pull that trick on Roxas once, but it freaked him out too bad, made him think that he really did have coins shoved up his nose.

Good times.

"Grandpa," I say, "why don't you go down to the kitchen and fix yourself some breakfast? I'll be down in a little bit."

Grandpa spits at the ground near my feet, mutters something that doesn't sound very nice, and hobbles off down the hall and disappears into his room. I grimace and step over the small spit puddle and head back to the room; I don't hear Cloud and Roxas screaming at each other anymore, so it must be safe to go back.

Roxas is already dressed, and is getting his drums ready. Cloud is gone, probably moping around downstairs somewhere. I rummage around in my dresser, trying to find something decent to wear for the day ahead.

"Weatherman says it's supposed to get up to ninety-eight degrees today," Roxas tells me, and I groan.

"Lovely. I'll be sunburned _and_ dying of heatstroke by the time we get home."

"Drink water and wear sunscreen. Hang out in the shade during breaks. You'll be fine."

"Sunscreen doesn't do shit, and you know it." I pull out a pair of shorts and my _'I Sell Crack For the CIA'_ t-shirt and start getting dressed. "And if we're going to the football field, there's very little places that will provide shade. We're screwed."

"Then don't complain," he says, and I stick my tongue out at him.

I'm attempting to make my naturally spiky hair look somewhat presentable when Roxas suddenly lets out a loud crow of delight. I turn around and find him by the door, measuring himself.

"What is it?" I ask, though I already have a good idea.

Roxas beams at me. "I've grown a centimeter since yesterday!" he announces happily. By the way his chest is puffed out, you'd think that he'd just discovered the cure for AIDS or something.

"Are you sure?" I ask doubtfully. "I mean, it's only a centimeter. That's pretty hard to measure, you might have made a mistake--"

"There's no mistake," Roxas insists, shaking his head. "I have definitely grown a centimeter since yesterday morning." He holds out the measuring tape. "Here, see for yourself if you don't believe me."

I know better than this, I really do. Roxas has this bizarre obsession with his height. It's kind of a sensitive subject for both of us, since we're both short for guys our age. In Roxas's mind, however, he does not see himself as a 5',2" shrimp; in his mind, he's a giant. A seven-foot-tall giant, and every time he grows, even by the littlest bit, he has to crow about it, like it's the best news he's ever heard.

I know I shouldn't encourage him. If he is wrong, he won't listen to me if I tell him. He never does, and he never will. I measure him anyway, just so I won't have to listen to him moan and bitch about it. I squint at the tape, then at the mark on the wall that he left yesterday. "Um… I don't think it's a centimeter…" Hell, I don't think he grew at all, but you have to be careful when you're talking to Roxas about his height. He can get pretty pissy about it.

"The hell you talking about, Sora?' Roxas asks, and I sigh.

"It's not quite a centimeter… I think it's half a centimeter, honestly." I see his face darken, anger and indignation flashing in his eyes, and I quickly add, "But you definitely grew some!"

"You need to get your eyes checked," Roxas snaps, yanking the measuring tape out of my hands. He turns and makes a mark on the door, just above the one he made yesterday. Fortunately, he doesn't seem to have anymore to say on the subject.

I shake my head, grab a pair of socks from the top of the dresser, and head downstairs. I sniff the air and sigh happily; Aunt Shera made pancakes. The smell makes my mouth water and stomach rumble. I obediently follow the smell with my nose to the kitchen.

Aunt Shera is standing at the stove when I walk in. She smiles and says, "Good morning, Sora. I've already made your share." She gestures behind her, and I see a stack of pancakes on the kitchen table beside Uncle Cid, who's sitting in front of his own plate, reading this morning's newspaper.

"Thanks," I say as I sit, and I carefully cut into the heavenly smelling stack. She even put blueberries in the batter. Bless her.

"Where's that brother of yours?" Uncle Cid asks me around the cigarette he's smoking, and he flips to the next page in his paper.

"Which one?" I ask as I shove a mouthful of pancakes into my mouth.

"The blonde one."

"…Again. Which one?"

"The short one."

Oh. Roxas. "He's upstairs, getting his drums ready and measuring himself."

Uncle Cid flicks his cigarette into the ashtray, getting rid of the ashes, then plops it back into his mouth. "I thought we made it a rule in this house that there can't be anymore measuring. I told you we should have sent the boy to that therapist down the street," he says this last part to Shera, who frowns. "It ain't natural for a boy to be obsessing over his height like this."

"He's sixteen, of course it's normal. He'll grow out of it in a few years," she replies, plopping another perfectly made pancake onto a new plate. "You should talk to him about responsibility, though. I told that boy last night to bring his drums downstairs so he'd be ready this morning when it was time to leave. He never listens."

"I've already tried talking to him," Cid grumbles. "He's a hard-headed little fool." He says this affectionately, though, and he and Aunt Shera smile at each other. They can't have kids of their own, because Aunt Shera's never been very strong or healthy. I guess in a twisted way, Mom's death was sort of a blessing for them. They wanted kids for years and years, and then mom dies, and suddenly they have three boys on their hands. In two years, we've become like their very own kids. And there's Lilo, of course.

Speak of the devil…

"Did you make any pancakes for Stitch?" Lilo asks as she shuffles in, dragging our deformed dog/mutated koala, Stitch, behind her on a leash.

"Absolutely not," Aunt Shera says sternly. "Dogs can't have pancakes, it's bad for them. Their bodies can't digest them properly. And what are you still doing in your pajamas, young lady?"

"Aw, leave her alone Shera," Cid says, pulling Lilo into his lap. "It's summer vacation, she can hang out in her pajamas if she wants." Lilo grins, nodding happily, and Shera turns away, trying to look disapproving and failing spectacularly.

There's a loud burp; Stitch has eaten his leash. The only part of it left is a little bit hanging from his collar. That's the fifth one he's eaten this month. Cid sighs loudly, probably thinking of all the munny he wasted on those leashes, and Stitch hisses at him. Then he curls up into a little blue fluffy ball and rolls over to me; some kind of weird deformed dog/mutated koala trick that never fails to freak me out. When he reaches my chair, he uncurls himself and plops down onto his butt, then stares up at me with large, flat eyes. He eyes my pancakes pointedly.

"Fuggettaboutit," I say, then purposefully shove another forkful of pancakes into my mouth. Stitch hisses at me, his ears lying flat against his skull, and I shudder at the evil expression on his butt-ugly face. "Lilo, are you sure this thing is a dog? He looks more like a science experiment gone horribly, horribly wrong."

Lilo scowls at me. "Stitch is so too a dog! He used to be a Border Collie before he got run over." Stitch hisses softly again, eyeing my pancakes. Lilo shakes her finger at me, misunderstanding the nature of his hissing. "Look what you've done! You hurt his feelings! You know he's sensitive about how he looks."

"I'm sure," I say sarcastically, then smile to let her know I'm not serious. She rolls her eyes but smiles a little, and starts digging into the plate of pancakes Aunt Shera just put in front of her.

Lilo looks nothing like me or my brothers. Her skin is a natural tan, a soft brown color, and her hair is so black it looks almost blue in certain lights. Her eyes are large and brown. Most people assume immediately that Lilo's adopted, and actually, they're right. Aunt Shera and Uncle Cid adopted Lilo about a year ago. She's originally from Hawaii; her parents died in a car accident, and her older sister didn't have the means to support her.

Cloud, Roxas, and I thought Cid and Shera were going to Hawaii for a second honeymoon, we really did. Imagine our surprise when, instead of coming back with the usual souvenirs like t-shirts or key chains, they brought back a new little sister (cousin, actually, if you want to get technical) for us. We were given strict instructions not to ask her any personal questions that might upset her, like about her parents or her sister, but they didn't have to worry. Lilo never mentioned them, and seemed to act like they never even existed.

It took a couple months for everyone to get comfortable again after the adoption, but ever since the day they brought her here, Cid and Shera have been on cloud nine. Hell, they even got her that demented dog--and Cid hates dogs.

Cloud clomps into the kitchen and tries to smile brightly--I say 'tries' because Cloud doesn't smile for anything, not even small children, and also because his facial muscles are obviously as tired as the rest of him and can't seem to hold up the expression.

Aunt Shera sees through him immediately. "Do you have to work today?"

Cloud drops his smile and looks guilty. "Um… I'm not sure. Maybe." He totally does. Cloud's a sucky liar.

Aunt Shera sets her spatula down and plants her hands on her hips, gives him a stern look. She's not a very scary woman--she's too shy and timid, usually--but there's something about the look she's giving Cloud that could make rough 'n' tough grown men like Uncle Cid cower like scared little girls. Cloud happens to be doing that right now, actually.

"Cloud Everette Strife." Oh shit. She used his full name. I start gobbling my pancakes down, and out of the corner of my eye I see Lilo doing the same. We do not want to be here when Aunt Shera starts scolding him, and Uncle Cid backs her up with his yelling like he always does. Cloud will probably start yelling right back, and it'll just turn into another fight that ends with everyone ignoring each other.

Stitch senses the tension in the air, and growls before skuttling away, probably off to find something to destroy.

I swallow the last of my pancakes and start chugging down a glass of orange juice. I would prefer milk, but that'll just make me sick since I'll be out under the hot sun all day. I don't want a repeat of my freshman year, when I had two glasses of milk that day and I got so hot that I threw up my breakfast from that morning and supper from the night before. That was seriously disgusting.

I need to hurry, we're probably running late. Cloud is doing his best to try and convince Aunt Shera that he'll be home early tonight, even though we all know that he won't. Aunt Shera's eyes are getting brighter and brighter, and her voice is starting to get loud and shaky. Uncle Cid will join in any minute now. I drain the last of my orange juice and sprint out of the kitchen door with my socks in hand, Lilo at my heels.

I head to the front door where my trumpet case and the family shoe pile are waiting for me. I plop down and start pulling my socks on, listening to the argument simmering in the kitchen. Yup, Cid's joined in now, and he and Shera have tag teamed against Cloud. They both want to know why Cloud can't use some of his sick days, they've been building up for almost two years now, it wouldn't kill him to use a few. I can't hear Cloud's response, his voice is too quiet, but whatever he said makes Uncle Cid start yelling.

Roxas comes down the stairs and gingerly sets his drums beside my trumpet case. He starts going towards the kitchen until I stop him. "I wouldn't go in there. Aunt Shera and Uncle Cid are arguing with Cloud again."

Roxas groans. "You've gotta be kidding me. Is it a bad argument?"

A loud smacking sound from the kitchen, followed by some loud curses from Uncle Cid; he probably smacked his hand against the table and hurt himself. "What do you think?" I say, and Roxas groans again.

"Sonnuva bitch!" He curses. "How the hell am I going to get breakfast now?" It's an unspoken rule in my family that you do not walk into a room knowing that there are people inside it arguing, especially when Cid and Shera are in said argument.

I start searching through the shoe pile for my sneakers. "You should have brought down your drums last night like Aunt Shera told you too. Then you would have been able to eat breakfast with the rest of us."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Roxas sighs, rubbing his stomach.

I end my search with nothing but my right sneaker; my left sneaker has mysteriously disappeared. Fortunately, I already know who the culprit is. I pull my sneaker on and growl, _"Stitch."_

Roxas smirks. "Stole your left shoe this time? Good. That's payback for laughing when he ate my left hi-top sneaker."

I flash him the bird, then hobble up the stairs to Lilo's room where Stitch is no doubt hiding.

Lilo looks up guiltily at me from the floor when I enter. I eye her suspiciously. She has a pickle juice jar with the juice still inside of it in front of her, and four spoons with faces drawn on them. In her lap is an open book that I recognize instantly: 'Black Magic for Dummies.'

"I thought Uncle Cid banned you from reading that book ever again after you tried to curse your teacher for giving you a bad grade on your science project?" I say, trying to make my voice stern. It's hard to be firm with Lilo, she has a lot of trouble fitting in. Aunt Shera says she dances to the beat of her own drum, and the other kids her age aren't sure how to deal with her.

Lilo sticks her chin up and says defensively, "I'm not trying to shrink anyone's head this time."

I let my expression soften. "Are the other kids still giving you a hard time?"

"They think I'm weird," she says quietly, dropping her head down and looking at the floor.

I squat down beside her and pat her head. "They just don't understand what an awesome kid you are is all. That'll change in a few years, and then they'll all want to be your friend. You'll see." Bullshit. Kids are cruel when they're Lilo's age, and it only gets worse as they grow up. They might get a little better, but they'll always be little shits who exclude others that don't meet their expectations.

Lilo looks at me doubtfully and says, "I guess." Smart kid. She knows already that there is a very, very slim chance of anything like that happening. But she's only seven; gotta give the kid some kind of hope, right?

I kind of want to ask her just how she plans on punishing the kids at her school this time, but looking at the pickle jar and spoons, it's probably better for me not to know. Instead, I ask, "Where's Stitch?"

"Under the bed," she says, dropping the spoons in the pickle jar and screwing the lid back on. "Why do you want to know?"

I get on my hands and knees and lift up the bed skirt around her bed. "He stole my left sneaker."

"He wouldn't have done it if you had just given him some of your pancakes at breakfast," she says, shaking the pickle jar a couple times.

I roll my eyes and stick my head under the bed. Glowing yellow eyes peer back at me coldly. I shudder, but stand firm. "Stitch," I say sternly, "give me back my sneaker."

He hisses at me--the hell kind of dog is he? Dogs don't hiss; hissing's for cats. I growl and make a grab for the sneaker he's got clamped in his mouth. He dodges and skuttles out from under the bed.

I pull myself out from under the bed and shout at Lilo, "Catch him!" She tries, but Stitch is inhumanely fast, so she ends up falling flat on her face. Stitch streaks out the door, and I sprint after him, calling him various colorful names that I hope Lilo doesn't repeat. If she does and Shera or Cid hear her, they will literally make me wash my mouth out with soap. Hell, they might even make me eat it.

…'Course, I could die if they did that. Soap is poisonous, you know.

I chase Stitch into the front hallway, back towards the shoe pile. Roxas is still there, and he uses his drums to round Stitch back against the front door. I approach the little bugger cautiously, because he's got a mouth full of sharp, pointy teeth and I don't think he's had any of his shots yet.

"Sora, we were supposed to be on the football field ten minutes ago," Roxas informs me. "Let's make this quick, yeah?"

I snort and roll my eyes at him. "What, now you're worried about wasting time? You certainly didn't care this morning in bed."

"Yeah, but then I remembered that Axel's the drumline captain this year," he replied grimly. "I'd rather not give him a reason to punish me this early in the season."

Oh yeah, that's right. Axel Sinclair is Roxas's love-sick stalker who sexually harasses him whenever the opportunity arises. I forgot that he's going to be drumline captain; that means he'll have power and authority over Roxas for the rest of marching season, and he'll no doubt use and abuse his power whenever he can. I can't believe I forgot; Axel's been sending Roxas notes in the mail about this all summer, joyfully outlining all the ways he's going to punish Roxas if he ever messes up. Drove Cloud absolutely crazy.

I make a note to tease Roxas about this later, but for now, it's probably best that I focus all my attention on the little sneaker-eater in front of me. I tense, ready to spring onto Stitch if I need to. He watches me wearily, his large, buggy eyes studying me intently. Very intelligent, very _creepy._ I force down another shudder.

"Jesus, you're one ugly dog," I say quietly, then lunge forward. Stitch starts to spring away, but I manage to grab my sneaker before he can get away. He snarls at me and tries to jerk it back, but I tug harder. Christ, this dog is strong! I jerk and pull at the sneaker for what seems like forever, and I'm really beginning to think that he's not ever going to let it go. But I'm stubborn, and I give the shoe an extra hard tug, and to my surprise it comes flying out of Stitch's mouth and smacks me in the face. Stunned, I fall back onto my ass, and I can hear Roxas laughing hysterically behind me. Asshole. See if I hide him when Axel drops by for another nightly visit.

I wince as I pull the slobbery shoe onto my foot, and give Stitch a loathing look. He hisses at me _again_ and then skulks away, probably off to sulk in Lilo's room.

"That hissing thing is getting really old," I call after him, even though I know he can't understand me. Or maybe he can. Sometimes I get the eerie feeling that he understands every word we say to him, like Lilo claims. But that might just be my paranoia talking.

Roxas has finally stopped laughing, and is now tapping his foot impatiently, his tenor drums in his arms. "Can we go now?"

I pick up the duffel bag I left by the door last night and check its contents. "Did you remember to pack water bottles?"

"Yes, four. Can we go?"

"Sunscreen?"

"Yee--eeesss. Let's gooooo."

"Deodorant?"

"What the--why the hell would we need deodorant?"

"You said so yourself that it was gonna get up to ninety-eight. We're gonna be sweating. Do you wanna smell like the locker room after football practice?"

"_Everyone _is gonna smell out there, Sora, and so will we, no matter how much deodorant we use. There's no point in getting any. Can we go, pleeeeaase?"

"Hang on--money for lunch?"

"Yes, Cloud gave me a twenty. I got it in my pocket. Now let's go, or I swear I'll leave you."

I sigh. "Fine, fine. Let's get this show on the road." Roxas sighs in relief and throws open the door. It hits the wall with a bang. I wince, and give Roxas a dirty look because of the dent it left behind, but he just shrugs at me and walks out the door quickly. Probably worried that Cloud might come out and start yelling. He doesn't even say goodbye…

I shake my head and grab my trumpet case, and call out, "Bye! We'll see you later!"

In the kitchen, I hear Cloud shout back, "Be careful walking down the street! Look both ways before you cross the road!"

"Don't use your brother as a distraction!" Cid yells at him. I roll my eyes and walk out, slamming the door shut behind me.

* * *

…_Done and done. I've gotta say, this fic is sort of personal; I was in marching band myself, so most of the experiences that Sora and Roxas will go through as the story goes on will be events that I've experienced myself, or the marching band experiences of others that I've talked to. _

_Love it? Hate it? Don't care? Too boring? Let me know please--your criticism is what will help me to become a better writer, and will be greatly appreciated. _


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